


36 Questions (and I'll Say I Love You)

by LadyAngelique, mischiefmanaged95, wood_c_thrush



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Steve Rogers, Bottom Steve Rogers, Falling In Love, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Psychology, Science Lover Bucky Barnes, Smut, Top Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 00:39:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7459845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAngelique/pseuds/LadyAngelique, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischiefmanaged95/pseuds/mischiefmanaged95, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wood_c_thrush/pseuds/wood_c_thrush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 1997 study “The Experimental Generation of Interpersonal Closeness” wasn't created to make people fall in love.  That was just a bonus, really.</p><p>College/Psych study Shrinky-clinks AU!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arts and Sciences

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mischiefmanaged95](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischiefmanaged95/gifts), [LadyAngelique](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAngelique/gifts).



> Endless love and thanks to mischiefmanaged95 and LadyAngelique for holding my hand through this whole thing <3 <3 <3

 

“Oh,” the other boy says, eyes widening in surprise. “Um, I thought this was a…”

“We need control couples as well,” the girl with the clipboard – was it Katie? Laura? Lauren? There were so many of each here – replies, indicating the second chair at the table. Bucky sits opposite the other boy, a little amused as he runs a hand through sunshine-golden hair, just too long to be trendy. “Your initial surveys matched you two up anonymously as good candidates for a male-male platonic pairing. All data are good data!”

Bucky sticks out a hand before his partner can bolt away. “I’m James,” he introduces, flashing his favorite charming smile. “But everyone calls me Bucky.”

The blond actually blushes, an adorable dusky pink high on his cheekbones. “Bucky,” he repeats, his grip firm and confident despite his obvious discomfort. “Nice to meet you. I’m Steve.”

“Steve." He likes it. Steve’s blush deepens a shade, and Bucky’s grin widens.

“Alright, great! Again, thanks so much for participating, and remember, you’re free to leave or cancel your results at any time,” Katie-Laura-Lauren chirps, pulling out a list of questions from her clipboard. “I’ll be down the hall if there’s any problems – you both signed the sheet for your extra credit points for Dr. Erskine, right?”

They both nod, and she pulls out a stopwatch from her pocket. “It’s set for four minutes, just press start when you’re ready. Your exit surveys are on that desk, and remember: at least one point of physical contact the whole time. The psych department thanks you!”

Bucky chuckles under his breath as she breezes out the door, lock clicking behind her. “Look, Steve, if you’re uncomfortable, we can just get up and leave right now, never see each other again. Already got the free points for old Abe’s class.”

Steve bristles, straightening up and lifting his chin. “I’m fine, I’m not taking extra credit from Dr. Erskine for nothing," he snaps, and oh, Bucky is captivated.

He can’t be an inch over five-four, this lovely, tiny spitfire. His lithe frame is accentuated by the slim fit of the red, white and blue flannel rolled back over his forearms, enhancing the hipster persona of his rimmed glasses. A smudge of charcoal on one arm contrasts with smooth, pale white, chiaroscuro continuing up his flushed neck over otherwise unmarked skin.

If Bucky has his way, not for long.

He leans forward, staring into endless blue eyes. “Alright. Give me your hand then, Steve."

Steve sets his jaw, then scoots his chair forward, tangling their legs together and taking Bucky’s left hand in a single motion. The blush is almost scarlet now, though, his palm a little sweaty. “I’ll go first,” he says, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Oh, Bucky can’t wait to see what comes next.

“Perfect." He takes up the paper with his free hand. “Number one: given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?”

 

* * *    * * *    * * *

 

Steve’s heart thumps so loudly he’s worried it’ll hop out of his chest and right into Bucky’s lap. Not for the first time, he silently curses whatever karma was out to get him.

He’d seen flyers for the psych study plastered through the student union building and jumped at the opportunity. Finally, a girl would have to at least look at him instead of over him, and he wouldn’t be laughed away when he sat across from someone and started a conversation at the lone bar downtown. He’d thought that sort of thing was supposed to be over in middle school, but apparently that was only for people who grew past their middle school heights.

But, no. Here he sits across from the singular most beloved man on their tiny campus, who he’d pined over from afar for two years now. James Barnes, division boxing champ, 4.0 student, and very publicly in relationship with the most beautiful girl in a hundred miles, Russian exchange student Natasha Romanoff. Bucky, devastatingly handsome in black skinny jeans, a white v-neck tight over his broad, muscled chest, and silver dog tags beneath a leather jacket.

And he wouldn’t stop looking right at him, with his cocksure smirk and sparkling brown eyes, his perfect chestnut hair.

He knows, the gorgeous, taunting bastard. Somehow.

Wait, what was the question again?

Steve blinked, then remembered. “Senator Bernie Sanders. I’m curious about what’s next for him and the Democratic party in light of Trump’s election. And I support his environmental initiatives and foreign policy record over more moderate liberals.”

Bucky cocks his head to the side, considering. “I agree. You’re not one of the Young Republicans here, then.”

“God, no. If I hear one more uninformed rant about Obamacare, I might need it afterwards.”

Bucky laughs, warm and sincere. “We can take ‘em. You go right, I’ll cover your left." Steve shifts in his chair. Bucky… wasn’t mocking him, his size, his beliefs and convictions. It was quite the change.

“I think… Neil deGrasse Tyson,” Bucky continues, and Steve’s mouth drops open. “I mean, Stephen Hawking’s the most brilliant astrophysicist to ever live, but I’m not sure his wheelchair could get into my apartment.”

He chuckles again as Steve schools his features back to neutral. “Most people are surprised to find out I’m a science nerd,” he confides, murmuring the epithet conspiratorially.

“Most guys who look like you aren’t,” Steve says unthinkingly, then slams his mouth shut. Well, if Bucky didn’t figure out he was bi already, he probably knew now.

Incredibly, Bucky doesn’t so much as blink. “It’s hard, being extraordinarily good-looking. Fellas like us gotta help each other through the pain.”

Steve feels his blush return with a vengeance, heat creeping up to his ears. Bucky smiles again, and his heart trips over itself, racing in his chest.

This crush is getting out of hand. Being out – or suspected – on a campus like theirs is to be an endless source of gossip if you’re well-liked, a target for so-called “friendly” hazing by frat brothers if you aren’t.

A memory ghosts through the back of his mind: the star of the softball team, transferring last year after the school ignored her claims of being harassed for months. All for getting caught holding hands with her partner. It went against everything Steve believed in, their disgusting bigotry, but after his mother’s death, this was the only school with a decent art program to give him enough scholarship aid.

He had to ride it out, ignore the flutter in his chest when Bucky walked by, a smile for everyone around. Even if he himself was still invisible.

He could see Steve now, though. Hear him. Feel him.

No, no – Bucky, he’s with _Natasha._ She's beautiful and terrifying, and they're the power couple adored and envied by everyone. Bucky wasn’t flirting with Steve, of all people.  No. Steve’s projecting.

“What’s the next question?” he murmurs, ignoring how Bucky’s knee nudges between both of his when he shifts.

“Do you want to be famous? In what way?” Bucky pauses, looking contemplative. “I used to, but definitely no, now.”

Steve is surprised again. “Why not? Here you practically are, already.”

“That’s why,” Bucky shrugs. He hesitates for just a moment, sighing through his nose. “People have their expectations for you, and they don’t care about what yours are for yourself. I used to dream of going pro for boxing, living the big life, but…it’s not worth it, anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time.”

Steve nods, heart twisting at his raw, naked honesty. “I’ve never wanted to be famous. Just to do the right thing, make a difference.”

“Like how?”

Steve shakes his head at himself, remembering. “My dad was in the Army. I wanted to follow his footsteps, but they don’t take guys who might get stepped on.”

Their eyes meet again, vibrant brown boring into blue. “Their loss,” Bucky murmurs, and Steve has to duck his head.

“Before making a phone call, do you ever rehearse what you’re gonna say? Why?” Steve recites, reading the paper upside-down.

They continue on through more questions, more quirks and qualities coming out. Neither of them rehearse their phone calls, but both of their perfect days include cookie dough ice cream and watching the stars. Three things they appear to have in common are skinny jeans, having freckles, and needing glasses, though Bucky wears contacts instead. Steve doesn’t sing for other people, but sings to himself all the time; Bucky sings in Russian with Natasha only, claiming his voice is terrible. Steve would gain the ability to have perfect color vision, to help his art, and Bucky wants to fly.

“C’mon, Stevie, you can have superpowers!” Bucky laughs over Steve’s protests. “You’ve already got the Clark Kent glasses, you don’t want the super strength and speed to go with ‘em?”

“Glasses are the stupidest, most obvious disguise,” Steve points out, “and the question said one thing, Buck.”

“Killjoy.” Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand, still enveloped in his own. Steve resolutely ignores his stomach fluttering in response. “You’d be the kind of superhero with a shield instead of a sword, always jumping in for the little guy,” he adds, more serious now.

“And you’d punch out the bad guys sneaking up from behind, watch everyone’s back,” Steve says softly. Then, he clears his throat. “And hey, you could give me rides, fly me everywhere. We’d be a perfect team.”

Bucky bursts out laughing, throwing his head back, and Steve wonders if someone can be addicted to a sound. Focus, Steve. “Is there something that you've dreamt of doing for a long time? Why haven't you done it?”

Bucky sobers up, the light in his eyes dimming. “Um, yeah, there is. I haven’t done it because… it’s not the right time.”

“Yeah,” Steve whispers. “Same.” Their eyes meet, and neither of them presses the other. “What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?”

 

* * *    * * *    * * *

 

Bucky hadn’t expected, when signing up for a student psych study that claimed to foster emotional intimacy and attachment, to actually come out of it feeling either. Being gay seemed to preclude the possibility of falling in love with whichever girl was placed with him. He’d felt a twinge of guilt as he scribbled his name on the sign-up sheet, knowing some poor soul might end up with unrequited feelings. He needs the extra credit to keep an A with Erskine, though; the man was a sweetheart, but a taskmaster.

Then he’d walked in to see Steve, small and spirited and – quite frankly – absolutely beautiful. He didn’t have grand illusions, though. He’d just wanted to test the waters, see if his flirting would be reciprocated, and had expected Steve to storm off in seconds. Instead, Bucky finds himself pouring out his heart with every question.

“Greatest accomplishment,” he muses, thinking it over. “I guess… just cleaning up my act so I could get here.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Way the whole place worships you, it’s hard to believe you’ve ever been in any trouble.”

Bucky chuckles humorlessly. “Yeah, well. This place was a new start. I, uh…”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Steve murmurs, but Bucky shakes his head.

“No, it’s… I want to.” He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “I got mixed up in some bad stuff, starting back around middle school. Um, my parents were gone, so I was in foster care, and I got split from my sisters. I haven’t seen them since, they were so little… I don’t know what happened to them.”

Steve squeezes his hand, and Bucky looks up to see deep blue eyes full of sympathy. “My parents are both dead, too,” Steve whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

Bucky gulps, blinking a few times. “I knew these guys, they were great when I was younger, but… I come from a bad neighborhood, and they got sucked into it, and they kinda sucked me in, too. I got depressed, and this guy, Alex, he… drugged me, slipped me ecstasy and ketamine. I was stupid, I got hooked.

“But this teacher, Mr. Fury, he...” He takes another deep breath, gripping Steve's hand like it's solid ground in a storm. “He was my high school principal, and the boxing coach. He… well, kicked my ass into gear,” he finishes with a small laugh. “I’ve been sober five years now. Got my grades back up, and got here on the boxing scholarship.”

“Amazing,” Steve proclaims, and Bucky has to drop his gaze. “Jesus, Buck. You’re a hero.”

A tear escapes, and Bucky furiously wipes it away. “Yeah, right.”

“Well, you’re my hero.” Bucky gapes at him, and Steve stares right back, jaw set and eyes confident.

“What about you?” he asks, when he thinks his voice won’t break.

“Honestly? Just surviving this long, I think.” Steve turns his head, staring into the blank chalkboard. “I used to get sick all the time, stuff almost no one gets anymore. I had scoliosis, and ‘m partially deaf in my right ear. My dad died when I was a baby, my mom when I was fifteen. Never really had anyone else. I was picked on in school for being so small, and I got into fights all the time. But I, uh, had a teacher that helped me, too. Mr. Coulson’s the one who taught me design, made me practice my art for real. And, now I’m here.”

Bucky shakes his head, heart breaking in his chest. “Christ. You’re my hero, too, Stevie.”

Steve gives him a watery smile. “Well, I think that covers what our most terrible memories are,” he pronounces, looking down at the question sheet. “And what our relationship with our mother is like, and how close our families are. And whose death in our family we would find most disturbing. And telling your partner your life story in four minutes, what the hell!”

Bucky laughs again, for what feels like the first and thousandth time already. “Just skip to the good ones.”

Steve scans down the list, reaching almost the very end. “Tell your partner something you like about them already.”

He looks back up, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, and Bucky feels a rush deep in his belly. He’d wanted this boy the second he’d laid eyes on him, but now… he wants Steve.

“You’re stubborn as all hell, and I love it,” he confesses, and Steve’s eyes widen. “You’ll survive anything, and you’ll make all the difference for someone, I know it.”

Steve sits speechless for a moment, then blinks. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met,” he says, “cause all the shit that’s happened to you has only made you kind.”

It’s Bucky’s turn to be speechless, blood rushing in his ears. He tightens his grip on Steve’s hand, and Steve looks back down to the paper.

“Last one,” he whispers, and Bucky nods. “Complete this sentence: ‘I wish I had someone with whom I could share...’”

“I’m gay,” Bucky blurts out.

His pronouncement hangs in the air, heavy and looming, and Steve’s expression is of pure shock. Bucky’s heart plummets, blood draining from his face, and he feels like he might be sick.

Finally, Steve stammers, “I – I’m bi.”

Bucky almost collapses with relief. “I’ve never told anyone,” Steve whispers almost to himself, sounding faint.

“Only Natasha and her partners know,” Bucky whispers back. Steve looks taken aback.

“Wait, then, you two – partners?” he asks, eyes suddenly full of hope. Bucky feels a smile bloom on his face, excitement pounding in his veins.

“You know Clint Barton and Darcy Lewis?”

“No!” Steve exclaims, grin spreading wide. “They’re all together?!”

“Yeah!” Bucky practically shouts, soaring on the freedom of unburdening his deepest secret. “They call it a polyamorous triad, all three of them committed and stuff. Nat and I met here, and we faked it so no one would know about either of us!”

“So you’re…”

Bucky nods. “Yeah. And you’re…”

“Yeah.” Steve’s face is alight with wonder, ethereal and beautiful, and Bucky wants to kneel and worship at his feet. “Um. We gotta do the last part now.”

Bucky reaches over blindly, grabbing the timer without breaking eye contact. “Ready?”

Steve nods wordlessly, and Bucky presses start.

The room is silent but for a ticking clock and the sound of their breaths. Steve flushes again, rosy pink spreading down his neck to disappear under his collar.

Bucky stares, leans in a hairsbreadth. Steve follows, and their legs brush together, even closer. Steve’s lips part, his breath short.

Seconds tick by in agonizing slowness, something slowly building as they gaze at each other, enraptured. There is nothing outside of Steve, the world silent in wait. Bucky feels a strange sensation, growing insistent. Something big is about to happen, he can feel it.

The timer beeps.

Steve’s mouth is on his, and Bucky groans in pleasure. The kiss is too hard, teeth pressed against lips, but it’s perfect, and Bucky tilts his head, holding the back of Steve’s neck. Steve kisses like he's fighting a war, and Bucky's not about to lose.

After a second, Steve pulls back, then kicks away his chair and shoves himself around the table. Bucky jumps to his feet, and he towers over him, golden hair just reaching the top of his chest. “Steve,” he gasps, and he yanks him into his arms.

Steve surges up and attacks his mouth, more passion than finesse, and Bucky walks them forward, pushing Steve against the wall. “Hang on, sweetheart,” he breathes, pulling back. Steve looks debauched already, pupils blown and lips bruised red. Bucky growls, slanting their mouths together again, licking past Steve’s teeth.

Steve lets out the sweetest moan, and Bucky chases it back, tangling their tongues together.  Hands pull at his hair, and he nips at Steve’s lower lip, earning him a gasp.  “I’ve got you, Stevie,” he whispers, kissing up his jaw.  “Let me take care of you.”

“Please,” Steve whimpers, throwing his head back as Bucky kisses up his jaw. “Come on, already - ”

“Shh, babydoll, shh,” Bucky murmurs, low and close. “Poor psych students might have a heart attack.”

“Fuck them,” Steve growls, and Bucky bites back a moan.

“Rather fuck you, sweetheart,” he grins, slowly rolling his hips, grinding against him.  Steve whimpers, and a surge of heat roils through him, powerful and possessive.  “You want that, Stevie?” he rumbles, nuzzling into his neck.  “You need it? Need me?”

Steve moans, ragged and wanton. “God, Buck, yes.”

Bucky reaches down, hoists Steve up onto his hips and presses him into the wall.  “Anything, sweetheart,” he whispers, then kisses his collarbone, hot and open-mouthed.

“C’mon, Buck,” Steve gasps, arching against him.  “Quit foolin' around, please, just – “

“Not here,” Bucky says firmly, pulling back and dropping him to his feet.  “My apartment’s the next building over, it’s empty.”

Steve grabs his jacket, and Bucky grabs his hand, the beautiful, blessed hand that he’d gotten to hold all night. “Ready, babydoll?”

Steve gazes up at him, eyes clear, determined. “Ready.”

 

 


	2. Physical Education

 

Bucky can tell that Steve’s nervous, despite his earlier enthusiasm. In the heat of the moment, in an unlocked room, every touch was illicit and desperate and exciting; now, faced with reality in his apartment, trepidation halts them at the door.

“Steve, we don’t have to do anything,” Bucky soothes, cupping Steve’s face. “You don’t even have to stay. There’s no rush.”

But Steve shakes his head, determination sparkling in his eyes. “No, I… I want this, I want you. I’ve just never done... anything, before.”

Bucky’s heart swells. He’s honored, humbled by the depth of Steve’s trust, just hours after they first met and put their hearts in each other’s hands. With a low rumble, he crashes their lips together, his lover’s sudden shyness endlessly endearing. “I’ll take care of you, sweetheart. Just follow my lead.”

* * *    * * *    * * *

Steve whimpers and melts into Bucky’s hold, pressing into a broad, warm chest. Heat swirls deliciously from his swollen lips to the tips of his toes, tingling with anticipation. Bucky swipes his tongue along Steve's bottom lip, coaxing his lips open, sighing into his mouth. He tastes like mint and honey, as sweet and slow as their languid pace.

Bucky breaks the kiss, allowing Steve to catch his breath. He takes a moment to look the blond over, a pleased growl escaping him. Steve is divine, bearing proudly his kiss-swollen lips and red cheeks, eyes glassy and hair mussed.

“So gorgeous, babydoll,” Bucky hums, deep baritone tingling down Steve’s spine. He caresses a blonde lock away from hazy eyes, irises drowned by blown pupils, and Steve shivers. He gently takes Steve’s chin and tilts it up, gold-flecked eyes hypnotizing in the low light.

“Do you trust me, sweetheart?” Bucky murmurs close, tugging him forward by a finger hooked into his collar.

Steve nods, entranced. He feels like he could just float away, soar amongst golden clouds, only tethered by Bucky’s touch. “Yes, yes, just - Bucky,” he keens, nervous still but yearning, aching for more. It almost frightens him, how easily he slips under Bucky’s spell, surrenders fortress walls of his heart for Bucky’s protection instead.

“It’s alright,” Bucky breathes, stroking the back of his neck, grounding him. “Don't worry, honey. I've got you.” Bucky gently pulls off Steve's glasses, sets them down on the table. He admires Steve’s naked face, ducking in to pepper tiny kisses over the bridge of his nose, across closed eyelids.

“Bed’s this way,” Bucky directs, walking him towards an open door.

Steve blinks back to reality at the sight of Bucky’s bedroom, lights dimmed low. It’s a normal college student’s room, not much more than a twin bed, desk, and chair. The bookshelf is piled high with astronomy guides, Jules Verne novels, and a battered copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. What catches his eye, though is the famous Muhammad Ali poster on the back of the door, and another of Han Solo, roguish and cocky, hanging over his bed.

“The slave bikini never did much for me, either,” he teases, and Bucky bursts out laughing, dropping a kiss into his hair.

“He was my first crush,” Bucky admits, taking a moment to admire Harrison Ford amongst the stars. Then he leans in close, hands drifting down to Steve’s waistband. “I only take orders from one person,” he whispers into Steve’s ear, tugging his back against his firm chest. “Me.”

Heat rushes straight to Steve’s groin, and he bites back a whimper, molding himself against solid muscle. “If you quote Star Wars during sex,” he threatens weakly, breath heavy, “I’m never speaking to you again.”

Bucky kisses the top of his head again, then reverses his position, backing him up to the bed. His eyes sparkle, and he suddenly hoists him up in his arms, dropping him on the bed to bounce.

Steve actually giggles, giddy with excitement. It quickly returns to lust, though, at the look on Bucky’s face as he drags his tongue across his bottom lip. Quick as a flash, Bucky crowds over him, then leans in slowly, brushing his lips against his forehead, nose, cheekbones.

Steve exhales a shuddering breath, already half-hard just from Bucky’s gentle touch. The air zooms back in a gasp when Bucky slides his fingers at the edge of Steve’s shirt, just the slightest brush against his stomach.

 

* * *    * * *    * * *

 

Bucky likes that sound, so he lets his fingers drift further up, feeling Steve’s belly quiver at the touch.

“Want to see all of you, babydoll.” His fingers pause for permission, even as he drops another kiss to Steve’s parted lips. “Bet you’re gorgeous, that sweet blush spreading all over.”

Steve catches and holds his gaze, then places his hands on Bucky's and pushes up. The raw, piercing need in his eyes makes Bucky’s breath catch as hands smooth upwards, exposing his thin chest.

Bucky tosses away the shirt and nuzzles against Steve's throat, breathing him in. “What do you know? I was right.”

He kisses where neck meets shoulder, then suddenly nips at it, grazing his teeth across flushed skin. He chases the spreading blush to Steve's pert nipples, blowing gently to see them harden.

Steve whimpers in response, gripping the sheets in clenched fists.

Bucky smirks, wolfish and bright. “Now, I wonder if you taste good too, Stevie?” he whispers, and takes the pink nipple in his mouth, laving and swirling his tongue against the sensitive nub.

Steve gasps Bucky’s name like a prayer, arching his back, pushing his thin chest closer to the brunette. Bucky slides his other hand up Steve's chest and pinches the other nipple, and Steve moans and squirms.

“God,” Steve pants, head pressing back. “Please, Buck, please – “

Bucky chuckles, warm air across his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m being a tease, aren’t I?” A quick kiss to open lips, then Bucky ducks down, nudging back. Their eyes meet, and Bucky presses his tongue flat against Steve’s sternum, licking a slow stripe upwards, gaze heated and unwavering. “I’m not actually sorry,” he whispers, a predatory glint in his eyes.

“Jerk,” Steve manages through gritted teeth, and Bucky repeats the motion, making him groan.

“Trust me, sweetheart. Foreplay’s half the fun.” Bucky kisses down Steve's chest, this time down to skin stretched thin over his ribcage. He pauses halfway, then clamps his teeth down and sucks a bruising mark into flat abs, making Steve gasp and moan. He pulls back, then noses at the mark, soothing sweetly with his tongue.

“Bucky,” Steve whines, tugging at soft, wavy locks. “C’mon, please.”

Bucky smirks against Steve's stomach, thumbs rubbing gentle circles alongside. He knew he was going slow, but he’d never been so turned on in his life; he wanted to at least make this part last for them both. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Steve nods, sighing happily as Bucky unbuttons his jeans and pulls them off, his boxers tented and strained. Bucky grins at the sight, then dips in and suckles at the head of his cock through the fabric.

Steve's hips jerk and he lets out a small whine, twisting his hands in the bed sheets. “Jesus, Buck – “

“Impatient, are we?” Bucky grins, pulling off and drawing up, hovering over Steve. He hooks a finger into the boxer’s elastic, pulling down leisurely, lazily.

Steve finally snaps, surging up to claw at Bucky’s shirt. “Alright, alright!” Bucky laughs, the sound muffled by the fabric as he draws it over his head.

When he can see again, Steve is unabashedly gaping at him, and Bucky feels a stir of pride. Most - but not all - find the thick, sculpted muscle he maintains for boxing hot, actually attracted to just how big he really is. He wants his lover to like his body, though, of course. By the way Steve touches his abs, hand darting back like he was unsure of being allowed, his own lust is equally reciprocated.

“See something you like, babydoll?” Bucky drawls, raising a teasing eyebrow. Steve snorts a laugh, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, Bucky! You're so handsome! I can't take it anymore,” he whispers in dramatic falsetto, pretending to swoon.

“Oh, really? Maybe I’ll give you a show,” Bucky replies, rubbing gentle circles inside Steve's thighs, just inches from his pert, straining cock.

Steve whimpers at the touch, losing his joking tone. “C’mon, please, please.”

Possessiveness surges through him again, and Bucky dives down to kiss him fiercely. “Promised I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” he growls low, grabbing a bottle of lube and a condom from the stash under the bed. “I keep my promises, Stevie.”

He pulls off the rest of his clothes in a hurry, showmanship be damned. “Promise you’re gonna feel so good, babydoll,” he murmurs, ripping open the foil packet.

“No,” Steve shakes his head, pushing the condom out of Bucky's hand. “I'm clean.”

“Steve – “

“When did you get tested last?”

“Few years ago. Haven't done this for… well, a long while,” Bucky replied. “No one here’s ever... ”

“Then you're clean,” Steve whispers. “Please, Bucky. Don’t care about anyone else, I – I just want you.”

The sheer honesty, the raw need in Steve’s eyes ignites a fire deep in his belly, blazing and burning. Bucky crashes his lips against Steve's, desperate and hungry, and circles a slicked finger around Steve's hole before edging his fingertip in.

Steve moans into the kiss, pushes against the intruding finger. “Easy, easy, babydoll. Don't want to hurt you,” Bucky whispers against his lips. “Just relax.” The muscle starts to ease, and he slides his finger halfway in, causing Steve to gasp.

“There we go,” Bucky says as he starts pumping in and out, feeling Steve's hole start to stretch open for him. Steve closes his eyes, and Bucky never wants to leave his embrace.

They get a good rhythm going, Steve relaxing more and more, when Bucky slips another inside. Steve hisses a little, tight and hot as Bucky starts scissoring and crooking his fingers, searching.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bucky breathes. “Can't wait to be inside you, feel your little hole sucking me in,” he whispers in Steve's ear, suddenly changing the angle of his thrust.

Steve jolts, eyes wide in ecstasy, and Bucky feels heat zing to his cock in response. “Fuck, do that again, do that again,” Steve begs, looking up at Bucky with pleading eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Do what, Stevie?” Bucky teases, pulling his fingers out almost all the way. “Oh, this?”

He plunges his fingers back to Steve's prostate and hears him yelp, so he does it again.

Bucky adds a third finger and pumps faster, harder, already too close to the edge. Steve’s so small, so pliant beneath him, and it makes him hot in ways he can barely understand. “God, sweetheart, what did I do to deserve you?” he babbles, his mouth running off without his permission. “So fucking hot, a fuckin’ wet dream, babydoll.”

Steve wraps his arms around Bucky's neck and pulls him down for a deep, urgent kiss, their sweat-slick bodies moving together as though they were always meant to.

“I'm ready,” Steve whispers against his lips, “I'm ready, Buck.”

“You sure, sweetheart?” Bucky asks, still working his fingers in and out.

“Mm-hmm,” Steve nods, spreading his legs wider, “want all you, please, Bucky.”

“I got you, sweetheart,” Bucky growls, slicking up his cock with his free hand, slipping his fingers free. He locks eyes with Steve, hitching his legs up around his broad back, sinking into his entrance.

“Oh,” Steve mewls, trying to decide whether to push back or relax.

“Shhh, it's okay,” Bucky whispers, soothing Steve with kisses down his cheeks and neck, hands placed either side of Steve's head. “Relax for me, babydoll. Am I hurting you?”

“No, don’t,” Steve breathes, shaking his head, “don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

Bucky braces himself over Steve, leaning down to press their foreheads together, panting into each other’s mouths as Bucky slides all the way in.

“Fuck,” Bucky curses, nudging their noses together. “Shit, baby, you’re so tight. Feel so good on my cock.”

Steve whimpers, discomfort giving way to bliss as he wraps his legs around Bucky’s back. “I’m good, I’m good – move, please, Buck.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Bucky agrees breathlessly. He draws out only to push back in, experimentally slow, watching Steve’s face.

“Oh,” Steve moans, eyes closing as pleasure washes over him, “Jesus, keep goin’, Buck, please.”

“Kiss me, sweetheart,” Bucky orders, and Steve obeys instantly. As they kiss, hungry and passionate, Bucky begins to thrust in and out of Steve, drawing out the loveliest whines.

“Harder,” Steve begs, nails suddenly clawing down Bucky’s back. “Harder, faster, please – “

“Fuck,” Bucky groans, teeth and tongues crashing together. “You’re so good baby, so fuckin’ sweet for me.”

He snaps forward, hitching up Steve’s hips. “Oh!” Steve cries as Bucky thrusts again, exhilaration washing over in waves, dragging him under.

“Come on, Stevie,” Bucky croons, nosing down Steve’s neck, bed rocking against the wall.

“Come for me, sweetheart, come on my cock, can you do that?”

 

* * *    * * *    * * *

 

Steve whimpers and digs his nails into Bucky’s shoulders, eyes glazing over. He can’t feel anything but Bucky, his body so strong and big over his, shielding him from the world as his cock splits him open. Hips rolling, pounding into him, like they’ll never get the chance again. Fire licks down his spine, spreads throughout his body and he arches off the bed until Bucky’s hands pin him down.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Bucky whispers, voice husky in Steve’s ear. “You’re so good, Stevie. So good and sweet for me, my sweet baby boy.”

Steve falls apart.

He bites back a scream, coming untouched between them, clenching around Bucky’s cock. Bucky groans, fucking him through it until he stills, release filling him up.

He slaps a hand to his mouth, muffling the sound, but Bucky growls and bites down on his neck. “Wanna hear you, want everyone to hear you. Want ‘em to know it was you sounding so pretty – god, you’re so good, babydoll. So perfect for me.”

Steve half-sobs, aftershocks rolling through him until he can’t think, can’t feel anything except Bucky kissing him back down to earth.

“Stevie,” Bucky sighs, panting. “Oh god, that was fucking amazing.”

Steve can’t respond at first, soaring on the exhilaration, so stretched and full and satisfied. Then Bucky starts to pull out, and he half-panics, whimpering softly and clenching around him. “D-Don’t leave yet, please, I need – “

“Hey,” Bucky hushes, kissing him possessively. “I’m here, baby boy, I’ve got you.”

Tears leak from Steve’s eyes, unable to hold back. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Bucky holds him possessively, kissing the tear tracks up his face. “God, Stevie, did I hurt you? Why didn’t you say something?” Bucky asks, expression heartbroken.

“No, no,” Steve grins softly, “just – wow.”

Bucky nuzzles his nose against Steve’s, blowing out a relieved sigh that Steve takes in for himself.  
“Thank god.” He shifts lazily inside him again, just a slow rocking motion, and Steve bites his lip, groaning at the sensation. “You like that, huh? Like me inside you?” Bucky says, low and deep. “You need it?”

Steve nods, screwing his eyes shut as his cheeks flame. He looks away from Bucky, suddenly embarrassed and shy, until Bucky gently takes his chin. “Look at me, babydoll,” he orders, and Steve turns back automatically, already instinct to obey.

Bucky’s eyes are aflame, passionate and tender at once, and he drops a reverent kiss to Steve’s forehead. “Don’t you ever be afraid to tell me what you need,” he murmurs, caressing his damp cheeks.

Steve closes his eyes, the tenderness almost too much to bear. “Just need you,”

he whispers, raw and vulnerable.

Bucky gathers him close, tucking his head into the crook of his neck. “You have me, sweetheart. Long as you want me, I’m yours.”

 

* * *    * * *    * * *

 

A year later, Steve Rogers hops off the stage, diploma in hand, and kisses Bucky Barnes in front of the entire student body, faculty, and guests before walking out hand-in-hand with his fiancé. Natasha Romanoff shrugs, a thousand pairs of eyes on her, and plants one on both Darcy Lewis and Clint Barton before they follow after.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most college AUs are written with big universities in mind, but I went to a teeny tiny school full of people with teenier, tinier worldviews, and I wanted to explore how Steve and Bucky might fit in there. Hope you liked it!! 
> 
> The author's Tumblrs - give my girls some love!!
> 
>  
> 
> [ the-wood-thrush ](http://the-wood-thrush.tumblr.com/)  
> [ glide-thru ](http://glide-thru.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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